Some wits, too, like oracles, deal in ambiguities, but not with equal success; for though ambiguities are the first excellence of an imposter, they are the last of a wit.

This vast and solid earth, that blazing sun, Those skies, thro' which it rolls, must all have end. What then is man? The smallest part of nothing.

A prince indebted is a fortune made.

What tender force, what dignity divine, what virtue consecrating every feature; around that neck what dross are gold and pearl!

O let me be undone the common way, And have the common comfort to be pity'd, And not be ruin'd in the mask of bliss, And so be envy'd, and be wretched too!

Body and soul, like peevish man and wife, United jar, and yet are loth to part.

Less base the fear of death than fear of life.